"Great massage and chiropractic in Glastonbury"
penny
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a little bit about meGender
Female
Age
50
Location
about me
Mother of two amazing grown daughters, licensed psychotherapist, founder and director of The Center for Transition and Transformation; a place for safe, intensive therapy and/or breathwork sessions, co-founder of Even Deeper; facilitating deep personal growth weekend workshops. Working in the world for lasting healing for all people and for myself.
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poem for the day
This poem of mine just won a prize in a writing contest at the local college!
Sat, December 8, 2007 - 11:23 AM
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BACK IN THE DAY Back in the days when they allowed smoking at AA, the nicotine haze hung in the air and clung to my hair and skin for days after that first meeting, like the memory of no memory from too much chardonnay that hung heavy on my newly cleared brain. Danny Ryan, dead from emphysema now, but at the time sober for more years than I had lived, told me to sit down on the hard, metal folding chairs and take the cotton out of my ears and put it in my mouth and keep on coming back. Back in the days when I could drink any man under the table and then dance naked on top of it, coming to, a week later with no recollection of what I had done, or with whom, I had no way to know that someday, I would come to know myself in a whole different way in these crowded, smoky-blue clouded church basements all over town. When a new state ordinance outlawed cigarettes from the meeting halls, all of us drunks, trying to live without a drink a day at a time, didn’t think we could make it through an hour-long meeting without a butt, but we stayed anyway, drumming our yellowed fingers on the table tops, gripping our coffee cups and listening for our lives. We assembled again and again, again hearing Jimmy K. tell about killing that girl with his old Chevrolet and Maureen B. trying to reclaim her kids from the system she had lost them to on her last big bender, and I knew it could’ve been me, leaving my babies asleep in the car while I ducked in for a quick one with the guys at Jack’s, or drifting over the yellow line and not coming back. Back in those days I was sucking wind like all of them, running a race against the bottle I could never win without crashing and burning everything in sight. Those were the days before I gave up the fight and hauled the wreckage of my past into this place, coming back to God’s smokeless cellars, and finally learning to breathe again.
The sky changed from shades of gray to blue
Tue, February 27, 2007 - 1:48 PM
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and the sun broke through the rain-filled clouds, drying the sod around our shoes. A flock of geese heading south for the winter, flew over the crimson leaves, heading home to where steady warmth would greet them. We gathered below to grieve the loss of my father, to concede his death by planting him in the autumn earth. My mother, letting go of fifty three years of this man, echoed the call of the geese with a plaintive cry as she threw a handful of dirt into the open grave. She'd follow them, leaving his bones here, up North with us, to winter in the cold. 
I'd like to laugh more. To be more playful. To break away from the ever present responsible adult and touch the child that is buried inside.
Tue, January 23, 2007 - 1:23 PM
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Wanna play with me? 
It is clear to me that I am being called…have been called all of my life to open to spirit…to be sprit guided…to not just go to the edge of the precipice, but to jump. Leap and the net will appear… or it won’t.
Mon, November 6, 2006 - 9:41 AM
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Open the door and welcome the beast. What is that beast? That wildness? It provides the only way to hold both…the joy and the pain…the agony and the ecstasy. It comes in the form of the thing I most fear…that beast with the meek and the mild hanging torn and dead in it’s mouth…it’s violence invited by being uninvited by me. I must open the door and let it in. I must open thee place in me that lets spirit in to do with me what it will. Let go. Let go of the “Show me! Where is the evidence? Where are my thirteen rabbits?” Let go and open the door. My teacher won’t be a rabbit…the rabbit is dead and hanging torn in the mouth of my teacher. I must mourn that soft meekness and give it its burial rites and love the beast that killed it. I must let go…let go of my daughters and let them swim. They know how to do this…I taught them how. I am woman who breathes under water. Woman who breathes in the raging river of life…the fierce raging river that is spirit. In this life I am called to jump in…with all my fear…and let the river carry me where it must. My heart is open. I have known the pain of this living…of breathing fully…deeply…of loving…my heart broken open so many times it is misshapen and patched and jagged with repair. And still I hand it to the world to be smashed yet again. Because I am being called to trust spirit to guide me…to let go of me-me-me…my attachment to my intellect…my oh so smart and analytical reasoning that underscores the music of my life thus far. I have moved from simple scales to ordered classical, to improvisational jazz and now it’s time to move outside of even the basic form and leap into the complete unknown…cacophonous symphony of spirit led music conducted by the beast that I must invite to live in my house. I have no idea how to do this-and that’s the point isn’t it? If I simply open that door, spirit will show me what’s next.  I've been so moved by the FREE HUGS video and hope that everyone has seen it and is offering hugs everywhere they go! Check it out! www.youtube.com/watch I am so blessed to have so much love in my life. Beloveds everywhere who are more than willing to give or recieve love. This photo is of my dearest cirlce of friends in a group hug. Rumi writes: I would love to kiss you. The price of kissing is your life. Now my loving is running toward my life shouting, What a bargain, let’s but it.
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